


Dance the Night Away

by LaTessitrice



Series: Echo Prompts [5]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Echo - Freeform, Gen, When there's so little fic for a pairing you have to write it yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaTessitrice/pseuds/LaTessitrice
Summary: Prompt: Max, dance lessons





	Dance the Night Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [circular_infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circular_infinity/gifts).



> Also a Rosa lives AU.
> 
> Crossposted from Less Seen Roswell New Mexico Ficathon on LJ.

The breeze is soft, the air warm and fragrant, the sun gently setting on the horizon and adding a corona around Liz’s head. She’d probably freak at the idea of frizz, but that’s not it at all: it’s like the sun is bathing her in its best rays, bestowing her with the halo she’s surely owed.  
  
Or that’s what it looks like to Max, anyway.  
  
“One, two, one, tw—OW!”   
  
She squeals as he once again crushes her foot under his, distracted by her presence and proximity. Again. That’s the summation of his existence nowadays.  
  
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t know why you insist we keep trying this. I suck.”  
  
This is the customary dance lesson Liz gives him. Every sunset, every evening, for the past three weeks. Since they started their road trip.  
  
Honestly, she shouldn’t be distracting him this much. They’ve been around each constantly since they left Roswell, taking turns driving on long, barren highways. They’ve shared the same bed. They’ve done more in the bed than share it (though not…you know. He wants to take things slowly). But he’s kissed her. Held her. The only time apart has been when one of them’s been in the bathroom. Yet he still gets flustered holding her like this, trying to master anything more complicated than a box step.  
  
“You don’t suck,” she insists. “You’ve been getting better—really!” She’s very serious when she sees his doubtful expression. “And I like doing this. It’s our thing, you know?”  
  
He’s only being a little grouchy about it because he is bad (terrible) at it, but it’s not like he hates dancing with her. It makes her happy. His palms don’t sweat when he holds her hand anymore, and usually they end up just wrapped up together and swaying to the beat of whatever’s on the car radio. It’s a great way to end every evening. Who else can say they’ve danced in three national parks with Liz Ortecho?  
  
And it’s freeing, being so open with her about everything. She’d guessed something was odd when he blew the lights in the third motel in a row, then taken his true nature entirely in her stride. Asked a lot of questions, but he’d quickly learned the best way to distract her from those was to put her mouth to other uses.  
  
“I know,” he replies, taking the opportunity to kiss her tenderly. “I just wish I was better at it.”  
  
She smiles encouragingly. “I like teaching you.”  
  
They go back to their halting rhythm, and Max lapses back into his thoughts. Half the problem is knowing that he’s the problem, that he lacks the rhythm or coordination. That concerns him, because…well, he’s heard girls says that guys who can dance are good at  _other_  things. And if he’s not good at dancing…  
  
He can’t concentrate on not blowing out all the electrics near them if sharing a bed progresses into more, and trying to be a good  _dancer_  at the same time. It’s too much. He needs more time and practice.  
  
Liz doesn’t seem concerned. She burrows into him, the breeze now bringing a chill with it as the sun disappears in a blaze of fire. He swallows down his panic and lets her lead, one  _two_  one  _two_ , ready to do this forever if it’ll please her.


End file.
